I promised myself I wouldn't be "one of those" adoptive mothers who becomes annoyingly impatient...bothering the agency over things NOT in their control...and I was doing so well. Not really even thinking about it obsessively, let alone pestering the agency.
Until I saw his face.
One picture. Not even a good picture. That is when I fell in love with him. Somewhat similar to the ultrasound picts (especially the 3d one) when I stare and stare and think "I wonder what he looks like now." A blurry photo that in no way portrays who he is...just a glimpse.
Then another picture. I spent probably too much time measuring his height by the lines on the worn and torn bouncer. Analyzing his position vs. how much he is stretched...do the clothes make him look chubby or is he really that healthy. You name it, I analyzed it.
One thing I was not used to was having to carry a picture with me. I have never had to do that as I am rarely without my children. If someone wants to see them...I simply point them out. So I put his picture on something I am rarely without: my coffee tumbler.
Over the month, I memorized so much about those pictures that, when his update came, he looked like a different kid. Of course, it was "our Geda," but my heart sort of sank when I found it hard to recognize his eyes, or his puff of hair that looked shorter now, or the shape of his little legs. My bubble of "knowing him" by his two little pictures was burst. There is so much to get to know of him.
And then, yesterday, my sister made a very insightful observation about me when she asked, "So do you call him Geda still because you haven't passed court yet?" Hmm...I guess I do! Perhaps it was a subconscious way of holding him at a distance until he is "our son." As of now, we are simply "matched." "Perspective." "Potential."
Which brings us to tomorrow (or today as Ethiopia is ahead of us in time). Court...our very first court date. Of course, I have the cheery optimism of someone with their first court date. I was just reading a blog of another adoptive family who had been through six court dates. Post after post, you could feel her loosing the optimism and growing almost uninterested in the dates...as though she knew it would only bring bad news.
But I wont' think of that. Tomorrow is court. Tomorrow we could be parents again. Wow!
I wish I could show the pictures of Geda to illustrate the post, but...as mentioned before...he is not our son and I am not allowed to do so. I will add a few of Oliver to give an example of how different one baby can look.
One more day to get through. God, give me grace. And grant us favor in the courts.